


loose impression of a pastry

by burstaffinity



Series: because i love jolly ranchers [2]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Alvis is Ontos (Xenoblade Chronicles), Gen, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burstaffinity/pseuds/burstaffinity
Summary: Alvis needs help recreating a ritual of the past.
Relationships: Alvis & Fiora, Alvis/Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles), Fiora & Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Series: because i love jolly ranchers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193516
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	loose impression of a pastry

He’s burnt food because he thinks it being burnt means it’s done. He’s spent several days acting purely like a machine because his AI got all… discombobulated. He’s… _Alvis_ , so she’s seen and learned all sorts of things about him that one might call strange — stranger than him peeking through the window of Dunban’s kitchen to see if she was there. But that was still pretty strange, enough for her to speak up the fifth time she saw his head peek through the window.

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking at him directly.

His eyes widened. She giggled. He did look so _adorable_ when caught off guard.

That amusement quickly shifted to a scowl; Fiora darted out the house in an instant. Alvis was attempting to flee! “Oh no you don’t —” And thud, bumped right into a… flat but kinda squishy surface.

Ah. That was Alvis.

And Alvis was Alvis — meaning his body was mechanical, regardless how organic it felt. A Homs body didn’t stand a chance against a mechanical one, especially one that hadn’t had its heavier weight offset by whatever it was Alvis did to make himself be lighter.

“ _Oof_!” she groaned as she tumbled to the ground, feeling her bare hands press against the cold ground. She should have thrown on a coat and gloves. She should have thought about that before she ran out the door. Oh well!

“Lady Fiora!” Alvis knelt by her (as if he wasn’t the culprit of this crime of being an obstacle in Fiora’s path), eyes wide and full of concern.

Fiora giggled again. “I’m fine, Alvis” she replied, hoisting herself up. “But next time you should maybe shout or something, before I run into you like that.”

“My apologies,” he said, genuinely full of remorse.

Fiora had to stop herself from giggling again. Alvis could be _oh_ so very serious. “Before you run away again, mind answering my question?”

She was ready to… attempt to hold him down, to stop him from fleeing; but after clearly deliberating whether he should in fact flee (and fleeing appeared to be winning), Alvis calmed himself down and said, “I… need to ask you a question.”

* * *

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Alvis tilted his head, knitted his brows, and frowned. He was sitting across from her at the table by the kitchen. “Did I not just tell you?” he said. “I am only now remembering the past more fully.”

Fiora placed her elbows on the table, cupping her face in her hands. “Yeah, but a whole holiday where you give your significant other sweets and stuff? That sounds fantastic!”

“I suppose that is why I have remembered it now. I apologize for n —”

Fiora waved him off. “What’s this about ‘why’ you just remembered?”

“I was wondering if you had any experience making candy. Pastries will suffice if you don’t.”

“Candy or pastries? What— _oh_.” Fiora smiled devilishly, asking in a singsong tone: “You want to make something for Shulk, don’t you?”

“I… yes.”

Alvis didn’t have blood, so he couldn’t blush. She supposed the very stern press of his lips was his way of conveying his embarrassment.

Fiora reached out across the table to give Alvis a strong pat on his shoulder. “You’re just in luck. I’ve got years of experience knowing what kind of pastries Shulk likes.”

“What does he like?”

“Well, you know Shulk. Anything.” She rose to her feet, swinging round to where Alvis sat. “C’mon, let’s make him something great. And not burnt,” she added pointedly.

Alvis couldn’t blush; but if he could, she was positive he’d be blushing from embarrassment.

* * *

This was the fourth year in a row where it had been cold around this time in Colony 9 — and Shulk was still noting that whenever he went outside. He missed shorts. He missed shorts even though he knew this cold wouldn’t last forever; but “warm enough for shorts” was still a few months away. He sighed wistfully, watching his breath ascend into the air before him.

Where was Alvis?

He was not officially working for the Defense Force as a weapons developer — yet — but they had grown so accustomed to his presence that they’d given him his own desk next to Shulk. In lieu of actually looking at his partner, he’d been taking several glimpses towards the small, makeshift desk covered with pages of sketches. “I’m not good at illustrating,” Alvis had said once, when Shulk had inquired as to why he had gone quiet. He could make out that Alvis was sketching a sword. Or a spear? “I’ve never had to do this before, you know,” Alvis had retorted defensively. “Provide blueprints. We simply manifested the artifices, and that was that. I am still relatively inexperienced with designing smaller weapons, such as an axe.”

“This is supposed to be an _axe_?”

Alvis had pursed his lips, searching his database (memories) for _something_. Then he had retorted: “What do you humans say? ‘Give me a break’? Yes. Give me a break, Shulk.”

Shulk missed that defensiveness today. Well, no — he simply missed Alvis’s presence. This morning, Alvis had told him to “proceed to work” without waiting for him. That was the last he had seen Alvis today, still in his night clothes with no indication he’d be changing any time soon. Was he tired? Or did he just not feel like coming in? That was within Alvis’s rights, seeing as how he wasn’t an official employee of the Defense Force, but… Shulk missed him. It had only been a few hours, but he missed him. He chuckled to himself as he approached the entrance to the Military District. Perhaps it was his nature to be one of those “disgustingly in love” types.

“Shulk! _Shulk_!!!”

Fiora came rushing towards him from the direction of the Commercial District. Lagging behind her was a certain someone carrying what appeared to be a dish covered with a rag.

“Fiora?” Shulk jogged the short distance it took to get to her. “Why aren’t you wearing a h—”

“So anyway, Alvis made you something for Valentine’s Day.”

“Eh?”

Again Fiora ignored him, waving Alvis over. He didn’t pick up his pace at all, but now he was walking with a somewhat harder gait than before, trying to approach them “faster” without disturbing whatever was underneath the rag. Fiora let out a sigh. “Alvis was telling me how there used to be this holiday called Valentine’s Day, where he came from,” she said. “Isn’t his home called ‘Earth’ or something? Anyway, he said that on Valentine’s Day people would give treats to their partner. He felt like today would kind of sort of be Valentine’s Day if he was still on Earth, so he wanted to make you something. Isn’t that sweet?”

And long enough of an explanation for Alvis to have finally made it over to them. “Yes, hello,” Alvis said, standing stiffly next to Fiora. “I have made a treat for you, Shulk. With Lady Fiora’s h—”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” Fiora growled, putting her hand on Alvis’s back as she gently pushed him towards Shulk. “Go on! Show him what you made!”

“Yes, of course. This is for you, Shulk.”

Shulk couldn’t help but think that sounded vaguely threatening. And maybe it _was_ a threat, given what… “what” was underneath the rag. He could tell it was a pastry. He knew that much. It was definitely something that had been made of flour and possibly sugar. “I—er. Thank you, Alvis,” Shulk replied, taking the dish from Alvis’s hands.

Alvis’s smile was brittle.

Shulk frowned. “I’m sorry, Alvis, but… what is this?”

“It’s a cake! Duh!” said Fiora. “I know it looks weird, but Alvis put his whole heart into it. Just give it a taste!”

“Out here?”

Fiora let out a growl before she started to push them both back to the Weapons Development Lab.

* * *

Fiora was right: the cake looked strange, but — “This is fantastic,” said Shulk. “Well done, Alvis.”

“Thank you,” Alvis said, with a small, proud grin.

“I still don’t trust him to start cooking for you on his own,” Fiora interjected, “but this is a start. And really, you _did_ do good, Alvis.”

“Perhaps I should visit you for lessons,” Alvis replied. “When you are in town, of course.”

Fiora rolled her eyes. “You can come visit us in Alcamoth any time, you know. It’s got _way_ fancier kitchens than ours.”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing! Come on! You can bring lover boy with you, too.” Fiora winked at Shulk — who was busy eating another slice of the cake. “Melia wants to see you. _Both_ of you.”

Shulk gave Alvis a concerned glance. He certainly wanted to see Melia again, but Alvis… Alvis had some hang-ups over returning to Alcamoth, reservations that were now creeping into his expression. Shulk swallowed the piece of cake he had shoved in his mouth and said, “I’ll definitely go with you, Alvis. We can go whenever you’d like. Perhaps Fiora can give you advanced cooking lessons in those fancy Alcamoth kitchens.”

Fiora wrinkled her nose. “We’ll stick to the basics until you get the hang of it.”

“Understood,” said Alvis. “I will consider your offer.”

“Any time,” Fiora replied with a smile. “And by the way: happy Valentine’s Day, you two.”


End file.
